A Case of the Jitters
by LinLin
Summary: Greg's acting strange and the lab launches an investigation to uncover the cause!
1. The Case Is Opened

_Author's note: Many thanks to Moxie-Proxie for her help in coming up with the idea for this little ficlet! Hope everyone enjoys!_

**A Case of the Jitters**

One - The Case is Opened

"Iiiiiiif you want my body, aaaaaand you think I'm sexy, coooooome on Sara, let me know, oh!" Greg Sanders crooned to his coworker, Sara Sidle, while they were working in the lab.

"You've got to be joking me," Sara muttered under her breath. She turned around and high-tailed it out of the lab and headed straight for Grissom's office. "Grissom!" she cried as she took off into a run down the hallway.

Grissom, having heard the obvious panic and fright in Sara's voice, came rushing out of his office. He'd been working rather diligently on a new experiment -- this one involving slugs -- and had a mason jar in his left hand. The attempt to intercept Sara, however, came crashing down around Grissom's head, however. And quite literally. The two collided headlong in the middle of the hallway. An "oof!", smashing glass, and muttered curses from Sara punctuated the end of the incident quite nicely.

"What the hell is that!" Sara cried, looking down at the rather... slimy subject on the top of her shoe.

"That, Sara, would be a _vaginulus plebia_, known more commonly as a brown slug."

"Oh, no! Gross! Griss, you've really got to keep these experiments away from the lab!" Sara scrunched up her face and tried to gently remove the experimental subject from her shoe. It didn't turn out, however, and Sara had to endure watching Grissom wince as the slug was squished to a slimy pulp on the floor.

"Well, while we clean this up, care to tell me what had you dashing down the hallway?" Grissom knelt down and began to pick up the two remaining slugs while Sara knelt down next to him and began to clear away the shards of glass.

"I was in the lab just a few minutes ago and Greg was... singing," Sara began.

"And how is that different from normal?" Grissom asked. The two finished picking up the majority of the mess and entered Grissom's office.

Sara discarded the broken glass in the trash can and sat down while Gil placed the survivor slugs in another container. "It wasn't his normal selection of song, Griss. It was... disturbing."

"Disturbing... how?" Gil asked.

"He was singing Rod Stewart's 'If You Think I'm Sexy', Griss. That's not normal!" Sara shivered disgustedly as she remembered.

Gil frowned thoughtfully for a few moments. This turn of events certainly was disturbing. Greg normally sang songs that, while annoying, weren't frightening. Cheesy, maybe, but not this level of cheese. This was worse than a meltdown at a cheese factory in Wisconsin. Something needed to be done, and fast. Otherwise the whole lab was going to take a turn for the worst. Greg had that kind of effect on people. Gil slowly looked up at Sara and then nodded.

"Take me to the lab."


	2. The Investigation Begins

**Two - The Investigation Begins**

Nick and Catherine immediately looked to Grissom for rescue when he and Sara entered the lab. The expressions upon their faces looked almost pained as Greg entertained them with his rendition of "The Macarena". And, apparently, Greg was enjoying himself immensely. Especially the part where you have to wiggle your hips before turning to the side. Greg's version involved him bending over slightly and waggling his butt in three consecutive circles, and _then_ he turned to the side to start all over again.

"What's going on in here?" Sara asked, looking at Catherine sympathetically. She'd just received a front-row view of Greg's butt.

"Well, we have that case with the mariachi singer that was murdered, and we came to get the DNA results. Greg heard the word mariachi, and next thing you know, we're getting 'The Macarena'. Do you two have any idea what's gotten into him?"

Sara shrugged. "No, I don't. Greg was singing some Rod Stewart to me earlier, so I got Grissom as fast as I could. I don't know what it could be."

"Well, no one may know what it is now, but I want to get to the bottom of this. Sara, start looking through Greg's locker. See if there's something in there that could have caused this. Nick, I want you to stay here and supervise Greg. Make sure he doesn't hurt anyone... or himself, more importantly." Grissom took charge of the situation like no other. Because, in fact, had Grissom not been there, the team would probably have spent the rest of their shift staring, entranced, as Greg Macarena-ed all night. One had to admit, when Greg waggled his bum, it was rather hypnotic.

"But, Gil, what about the mariachi case?" Catherine asked.

"You've got it solo. Take some cadets with you if you need help at the scene. But I want everyone available on this case." Gil paused to collect himself, and then added, "We need to solve this case before the night is over."

The team practically exploded into action. Sara took off with all haste to the locker room while Nick pulled up a swivel chair and sat down. This was going to be the easiest job he ever had. Supervise a nutball? Piece of cake. He did feel a little poorly about Catherine not getting to participate in this fun-filled team activity, but he knew she'd solve the mariachi case and meet up with them in no time.

All Nick had to do was kick back and wait for everything to fall into place.


	3. A Turn for the Worst

**Three - A Turn for the Worst**

"Hey, Hodges!"

Hodges looked up just in time to see Greg at his side. "What do you want, ADHD-Boy?"

"Wanna do the hokey pokey?" Greg grinned at him.

Hodges immediately began to shake his head. "Oh, no, pretty-boy. I am _not_, under any circumstances, doing the hokey pokey!"

"Oh, but I think you are! C'mon, it'll be fun!" Greg pouted.

"No! Greg, we are supposed to be professionals!" Hodges tried to move away, but in a split second Greg had a hold of his arms from behind and was beginning to make him go through the motions.

"You put your right arm in, you take your right arm out! You put your right arm in and then you shake it all about!" Greg shook Hodges's arm rather vigorously and then began to twirl him around the lab. "You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about! That's what it's all about!"

"Greg, the hokey pokey is not what this is all about," Nick said, mercifully rescuing Hodges. Nick had no idea why he was being nice to Hodges. Maybe it was more due to the fear of what Hodges may do to Greg if Hodges ever got away.

Greg turned a pitiful look on Nick. "It's... it's not?"

Nick shook his head. "No, Greg, it's not. I think you need to have a seat and relax a little bit..." Nick approached Greg very slowly. After all, no one really knew what Greg was capable of. Not exactly, anyway.

"Relax? You want me to relax?" Greg's voice took on a bit of an edge and he crossed the lab toward Nick.

Nick never saw it coming.

"Hey, Warrick." Catherine was taking a five minute break in the lounge while waiting for some DNA results. She was two steps away from solving the mariachi case, and pretty darn proud of herself.

Warrick looked up from his recently microwaved macaroni and cheese. "What's up, Cath?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, really. Have you seen how Greg's been acting lately?" Catherine hadn't seen Warrick all shift, and she was wondering if he was caught up on all the latest news and excitement.

"No, I haven't. I'm pulling a double tonight." Warrick grabbed his coffee mug and went over to the coffee-maker.

"If you're pulling a double, I wouldn't recommend that coffee. You know Grissom keeps it decaf."

Warrick smiled at Catherine conspiratorially. "Not today, it isn't. When we came on shift, I switched it up with _my_ coffee. Cuban blend." He casually poured himself a mug and added one cream and three sugars.

"Cuban? Holy... that stuff could wake the _dead_, Warrick, not to mention..." Catherine trailed off, suddenly connecting the dots.

"Cath? You okay?" Warrick asked.

She nodded her head quickly. "Yeah, great. Do me a favor. Don't drink any more coffee!" Catherine turned and dashed out of the lounge.


	4. The Wear Down

**Four - The Wear Down**

"Grissom! Grissom!" Catherine ran in to Gil's office, nearly out of breath. "I've got it!"

"You've got what? Catherine, sit down and take a deep breath." Gil gently pressed her down into the chair opposite his desk. Once Catherine was seated and had calmed down a bit, Grissom leaned against his desk and folded his arms. "Now. Care to tell me what's got you so excited?"

"I've got it!" she repeated excitedly. "I know what's wrong with Greg!"

"Weren't you supposed to be working on the mariachi case?"

Catherine frowned, confused, and quickly picked up. "Yes, but I found the solution to the problem with Greg!"

"And what would that be?"

"Ooh, I'm thirsty!" Greg exclaimed. He walked over to the counter and grabbed his styrofoam cup, which had "Greggo" written in permanent marker on the side. Greg shook his head as he looked at Nick. "You know, we could have had a lot of fun together! I might have even shared some of my drink with you."

Nick tried to reply, but his words were muffled. By duct tape. Greg, upon realizing that Nick was _not_ here to have fun, had promptly secured him to a swivel chair with several (read: a few too many) yards of duct tape. And he'd finished off by taping Nick's mouth shut. After all, who wanted to listen to that southern drawl become whiny and pathetic? It was just heartbreaking, really.

"What's that?" Greg asked. "You want a sip?" He tsk-ed and shook his head. "I'm not in much of a mood to share, but... I will give you a sniff!" Greg walked over to the captive Nick and waved the cup underneath his nose. Nick took one whiff and his eyes became wide. He knew what it was. And it could only be one thing...

"Cuban blend," Warrick said. He was sitting in the interrogation room, with Grissom and Sara pacing back and forth in front of the table. Catherine was watching from behind the one-way glass. Warrick thought this was almost ludacris. Why had he been brought in for questioning about his _coffee_!

"Do you realize the implications of what you've done?" Sara asked. Her tone of voice seemed such that it made Warrick think he was guilty of conspiring to murder the Pope.

"No, actually, I have no idea. Would someone care to explain it to me?" Warrick looked up at his coworker and his supervisor. Yes, this was definitely ridiculous. Insane, even.

"Well, I only had one cup of coffee," Greg started. "At first."

"And then?" Nick looked at Greg. Hodges, in an insane twist of fate, had freed Nick of his duct tape bonds. Apparently, voluntarily doing seven rounds of the hokey-pokey with Greg got you on Greg's good side. Then again, one does not endure seven rounds of the hokey pokey without an alterior motive. And Hodges's motive was to get Nick to subdue Greg. Which happened after fifteen minutes of chasing Greg around the lab.

"Well, y'know... This coffee was different. It was... good! It tasted really good and a lot different than the coffee normally tastes. And then I found Catherine's secret stash of Irish Cream half-and-half, and did you know that that tastes really really good?" Greg would have continued, but Nick interrupted him.

"Okay, okay, _okay_! I don't need that much information. So you had coffee... but... the coffee was different? All right... stay here, I'll be right back."

"We figured it out," Grissom said as he, Catherine, Sara and Warrick met up with Nick in the hallway.

"So did I," Nick replied.

"I'm still lost," Warrick said.

"Let me show you," Nick said.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout! When I get all steamed up, hear me shout! Tip me over and pour me out!" Greg stopped singing and dancing in front of the one way glass and then knocked on it. "Hey! Anyone out there? I'm a little lonely in here!"

Warrick began to get choked up. If only he'd kept an eye on his pot of coffee! Or even just made only enough to fill his thermos! He raked his fingers through his hair. "It's all my fault."

"It's okay, Warrick. But we _will_ have to punish you..." Grissom said.

"What? Anything. Anything to make up for what I've done!"

"You have to work with Greg for the rest of the shift," Catherine informed him.

"Anything but _that_," Warrick muttered. He sighed.

Greg had begun a round of the Chicken Dance as everyone turned to walk away. Warrick hung his head and resigned himself to it. He was going to have to deal with Greg... for another three hours. Lord, have mercy on his soul...

Sara shook her head as she patted Warrick on the back. "You know, it's too bad we can't just keep him in there."


End file.
